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He does not believe it the first time. Not at all.
He stands up, expecting her to be there. She has to be there, but she isn't. She's nowhere.
The lights had been flashing so quickly that they made it hard to see. He could vaguely make out the shape of her on the other side of the room with every flicker, but when it's over, and the lights stop, no one is there. He screams and screams until his voice is hoarse. Maybe she's lost. Maybe she just needs to follow his voice until she finds her way back.
She never comes.
It terrifies him how awful it hurts when he finally accepts that she's not coming back. He immediately begins to record every second they spent together in his head.
It's why he wants to spit in the faces of the agents interrogating him when they try to tell her she was bad. That she was dangerous.
Of course, he knows the truth. He's never met anyone like her. El was gentle and understanding; she was protective, and she was brave. Someone with a smile like hers could never be bad. Not when everything about her was so good.
Was.
Was.
Was.
When he was little, he and Nancy knocked their Nana's favorite antique dish off the table it was sitting on. He watched his Nana stick it back together piece by piece with Mod Podge. It looked much the same when it was whole again, but anyone could still tell it was broken.
He imagines if the dish had feelings, they would be identical to his.
Something outside the window catches his eye as a lady tries to get him to tell her where El is. He looks a little harder, and his heart all but stops. It's her. He swears it's her, not that he says that out loud. They follow his gaze because they split out of the house.
He rushes over to the window to watch. He prays she's running. That she runs so fast that they'll never be able to catch her. He knows the last thing she wants is to be back where she started. He doesn't want that for her, either. And if he's not going insane and she's really out there, he prays that she makes her way back to him one day. He made a lot of promises he intends to keep; all he needs is the chance.
If she's real, she got away. A smirk spreads across his face when the idiot brigade comes back in, out of breath and all embarrassed that they didn't find anything.
The agents tell him and his family that they can never speak of her again to anyone or they'll be violating some type of agreement his parents signed. He steps onto the porch and flips off their cars as they drive away.
El touched every piece of his life. How could he not talk about her? She saved them all, and they wanted him to act like she never existed. El was a hero. Heroes in movies always got their happy endings. Why did she have to be any different?
Life's not fair, Michael.
His dad always says it to him, but he never had a reason to believe he was right.
Not until now.
If life was fair, El would be there. He didn't know what was coming next, but they would figure it out together.
But she wasn't. She was gone, and he was nothing but a broken dish someone glued back together.
They've separated again before they even have an hour with each other. He watches Hop's truck turn off the Byers driveway, headed for a place that could very well kill them both.
He doesn't really lose her the second time, but the ache in his heart makes him feel otherwise.
He chalks up number two anyway.
He woke up when she stepped through the front door, having felt like he'd spent a year of his life in a trance. Going through the motions every day, dreaming of her every night.
This was no fantasy.
He never got to put his arms around her in his dreams. She would evaporate in front of him like she was never there. He would wake up and stare at the ceiling, praying to anyone that would listen for her safety.
He felt crazy. He did. Only a crazy person would see her everywhere they turned. Only a crazy person would think they heard the voice of someone who was supposed to be dead through their walkie-talkie more than once. He felt crazy, but he couldn't let it go. Not when everything in him was shouting that she was still out there.
He does get to wrap her in his arms; he feels her labored breathing, keeping time with his pounding heart. She's real, she's alive, she's there. It's a moment that tattoos itself on his soul the second it happens. He wishes freezing time was an option so he could hold onto her as long as she'll let him.
She heard him calling, she told him. She visited him all those nights he was begging for her. She missed him, too. He feels like he's on top of the world. But he has to let her go again. They're in danger, Will's life is at stake, and she's their superhero. He understands. He does, but there are already cracks in his foundation he hasn't been able to fix by himself.
If she never comes back, he's not sure he'll ever be able to.
There's a lot to think about in the time she's gone. The demodogs being one. Lucas tells him to calm down, and he feels terrible for snapping back at him, but he feels like no one gets it. A miracle just happened, and it can be so easily reversed.
They come up with a plan to help. An assist is the least they can provide. She's in his thoughts during all of it. He didn't register how different she looked, too overwhelmed by her presence at the time, but now he's replaying it all in his head, and he's blown away. Still pretty, still so pretty.
He desperately hopes he'll get to see her again.
His mind wanders to other places, too. Much scarier ones.
Would there ever be an end to any of this? Would she always have to save the world? Even if it meant leaving him behind?
He would love to know the answer, maybe it would ease some of his anxiety, but crystal balls do not exist. Too bad.
If continuing to love the girl he could lose is a risk, she's more than worth it. He takes it in a heartbeat. When she wins and returns, he'll hold onto her until his knuckles are white and his hands are cramping, hoping she won't fall from his grip a final time.
Times three and four are back-to-back, which is so not fair because he doesn't even realize they're happening at first, and they hit him as hard as a two-piece from the hands of Mike Tyson anyway.
He says something stupid at dinner. He regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. Even more so when El drops her fork and rushes away from the table.
Away from him.
He's watched his mom do the same thing dozens of times before, and oh god, does that mean he's like his dad? No. No, he can't be. He won't be. He's not.
He actually loves El. He can't say the same thing about his parents.
This brings him around to the third time.
She's so upset. At the world. At him. He has to admit he feels a little blindsided by it all. He had no idea she was struggling. She sounded fine in her letters. He never picked up on anything being wrong in their calls.
But before doesn't matter when El looks at him like she's ready to break into a million pieces in the here and now.
He talks so much, and he couldn't say the one thing she wanted to hear. He was planning on saying it for the first time in person once he had enough courage, but they hadn't gotten time alone since his plane landed. He figures now is not the right time either; they're in the middle of an argument. He's never seen her in such a dark place, and he needs to say it when he knows she'll believe him. The way she looks like she's never had faith in a single thing tells him she won't believe a word he says.
He wants to tell her that she's been everything to him since they met. That every time she smiles, she rearranges every fiber of his being, and he'll never be the same because they crossed paths. He wants to let her know she's his sun and he hopes to stay in her orbit for eternity.
Time moves quickly when everything goes wrong; he's come to learn that well. One second, they're fighting, and the next, she's in a police car. He runs after it, tapping on the glass and begging her to look at him. When she does, he almost doesn't recognize her. She's never looked at him with empty eyes before, and she's completely unphased when he says he's going to fix it.
She doesn't want you anymore, his brain spits, because you didn't open your mouth. You don't deserve her. You're a coward. He believes it, too. Every time the image of her face repeats, he knows that the rotten voice in his head is right.
His heart takes the express line to his throat.
He spends the next few hours on the verge of throwing up. Would it be enough if he told her he loved her when he saw her again? Would she let him? Or would it be too late? Did he blow the best thing to ever happen to him?
It seems impossible that he would lose her again before he ever gets her back in the first place, or at least that's what he had thought. When he believed she was in jail, there was a degree of implied safety, a guarantee that she would come back eventually. In the hands of those government scientists, there was no telling what could happen to her. He wants to jump up and demand Owens' friends take him to her, but he knows it's no use because they're total jerks about everything. They do give him her note, though.
From, El.
It's a good hand she plays. He'll give her that. He realizes he doesn't like that from shit at all. It scares the ever-loving hell out of him, actually. She's showing him what she feels every time she reads one of his letters. It's not great, but it's a small consolation. Anything from her is better than nothing, he supposes. He needs victories where he can get them.
He blinks, and the agent protecting them is dead, but not before letting them know El is in danger.
It sinks in that there's a good chance he'll never see her again. She'd never know exactly how he felt, and he'd have to go to his own grave with the words he only ever wanted to say to her.
He'll tell her if he sees her. He decides right there. It doesn't matter if he's scared of losing her or the time isn't right. He will tell her, even if the world is crashing down around them.
He just has to find her first.
Even if it's been years since they've stopped fighting for their lives every fifteen minutes, the sound of the organ pipes singing their song marks the first time he's ever absolutely sure she'll never slip away again.
Lucas grabs him by the shoulders, laughing from behind as he gives Mike a good shake. He doesn't turn around to look at his best man, he's way too focused on the doors on the far side of the church, but he hears the ghost of Lucas' voice, a much smaller iteration, echo in his head.
If you love her so much, why don't you marry her?
Only ten years early, Mike thinks, because today is the day he'll do just that.
Fuckin' finally.
The giant doors creak as they get pulled open, and it feels like all the air has been sucked from the room because he definitely doesn't have any in his lungs. He has to remind himself to breathe. If he doesn't, he's going to pass out, and there's no way he's going to miss even a second of the moment he's waited his entire damn life for.
With Hop at her side, they step into the doorway. Everything starts moving in slow motion when he catches a glimpse of her.
He sucks in a breath of air so hard he's almost surprised his lungs don't collapse. The front of her dress is decorated with intricate lace, and the back flows long behind her; he loves how it shows off her collarbones. He's positive it was made for her, even if the designer didn't know it.
The dress is really nice for all he knows about wedding dresses, but that's not what makes his bottom lip begin to tremble.
As she moves down the aisle, he can make out her features. Her hair is pulled back and pinned. There's a veil attached that she chose not to put over her head. He thanked God quickly because if she had, he might have died from the anticipation right then and there.
But when he can see her face, he thinks he might die anyway. Beautiful, pretty, and perfect will not cut it this time. Ethereal is the only one that seems to fit, and even then, it's loose. His wife's beauty flies in the face of the English language.
There is no one like her in the world, and there will never be anyone like her ever again.
When she's halfway down the aisle, their eyes really lock. She instantly flashes him a half-smile, her signature grin he's come to know as the one that shows itself when she's so happy she can barely contain it all, and that's when his tears start to fall.
Because when their eyes meet, the future they fought tooth and nail for becomes crystal clear. He can see himself carrying her through the threshold of their apartment, buying their first house, laying in bed all day on some Sundays, not bothering to answer the phone for a soul. He sees the two of them dancing in the kitchen after a late-night bowl of ice cream when they can't sleep and evenings dedicated to the most awful movies. He even hears tiny footsteps outside their bedroom on Christmas mornings.
She's undoubtedly made of magic, and she lets him love her by the grace of all things holy. For reasons he hasn't identified, she even loves him in return. He knows he doesn't stack up. He never will, but El? She doesn't seem to mind. Even then, he'll spend an infinite amount of lifetimes being every bit the husband she deserves.
Before he knows it, she's an arm's length away; he's crying like an absolute fool in front of all their family and friends. He can't bring himself to care. El is right there. He's about to officially make her the most significant promise of his life. Nothing is more important than that.
He wipes his face quickly as the priest asks who gives this woman to be married. Hop's voice booms throughout the church as he replies and then kisses El on the cheek.
Mike stretches a hand out when Hopper turns to face him, but his father-in-law-to-be catches him off-guard when he takes it and yanks towards him, enveloping him in a short, crushing hug. Hop pulls away with tears welling in his eyes and slaps him lightly on the back before taking his seat next to Joyce, who's already doing enough bawling for all of them.
Then, they're face to face. He knows he's not dreaming when El brings her hand up to wipe the tears off his cheeks with a smile. He notices her eyes are glassy. There are streaks on her face, too.
"You look beautiful," he manages to choke out even though her touch sends a jolt of electricity from his head to his toes.
"So do you," El laughs, "and you're ruining my make-up."
"Good thing you don't need it," he winks. "Are you ready?"
She nods quickly as they interlace their hands and step onto the altar in unison. Together, forever and ever.
At long last.